Thursday, 15 November 2012

The Comedy of High Places

The King is dead. Long live the King!
While trumpets sound and choirs sing,
another sovereign topples down,
the gloss worn from his royal crown;
and all his minions hold their breath
in fear that they may topple next;
and wonder just how much they know
and who will stay and who will go;
and, if they go, who’ll take their place
to profit from this royal disgrace.
Long live the King. The King is dead,
the crown has tumbled from his head;
yet, while his courtiers gnash and moan,
another monarch mounts the throne.

© Abigail Wyatt

Lord Patten: trust in BBC needs to be restored - video

Abigail lives in Redruth in Cornwall where she writes poetry and short fiction and does her best to remain positive.  Her new blog is: She can also be found on Facebook.